Harry Potter And The Secrets Of Magic
by DarkAhsoka
Summary: Harry Potter learns about the "Power He Knows Not" from two unexpected sources, and comes into his own in his Sixth Year.  Harry/Hermione/Gabrielle, HP/HG/GD, M/F/F, PostOOTP, Manipulative"GreaterGood"!Dumbledore, Powerful!Independent!Harry ON HOLD
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or related characters or concepts. Not making money off this story, simply writing for both my enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of my readers._

_**A/N:** Well, hello folks, in case you didn't gather from the summary, this will be a post-OOTP fic, showing my version of Harry Potter's sixth year adventures. This will NOT be a "Harem" fic - the pairing is Harry/Hermione/Gabrielle, and will remain just that, a look at the development of a menage a trois, if you will, amongst the two best friends and the younger girl who finds herself inserted rather prominently in their life. This fic will generally be book-canon, but I'll occasionally use movie-canon if I liked how they did something better. Gabrielle, in the first 5 books, was not given a definitive age, so I will be playing freely with that - she will definitely _not_ by 8 years old. One of the movie-canon things I'm picking up on is that she's already at Beauxbatons, and that will play a role here. _

_The rating IS T for now, but will go up to M in future chapters(a good 10+ chapters away), and WILL eventually contain sex or implication of sex as relationships develop, so if you're too young or are offended by such portrayals, this will not be the story for you. I know Veela Bonds have been done, but I'm one of those folks that feels that there is no such thing as a "cliche" that can no longer be used - it's simply a matter of how well written your story is and how well the "cliche" is handled in the story, and hopefully this will be one that you all will enjoy._

_Anyway, that's enough of my blabbering, on with the story!_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

_**Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, France - June 14, 1996**_

A warm summer breeze floated in through the open window, bringing the saltiness of the nearby seashore with it. The young woman inside the room tucked back a strand of her silvery-blond hair from where the breeze blew it across her face, and she stuffed her last piece of clothing into the expandable rucksack resting on her neatly-made bed.

Gabrielle Delacour took a final look around her room, making sure that she had taken everything that she needed. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to keep the sadness that tugged at her heart at bay. She knew it wasn't even her sadness. Sure she would miss her parents, and her home, but this sadness was to a depth she'd not felt until a few weeks ago, and she had to act.

Gabrielle pulled the top of the rucksack shut and tossed it over her shoulder before leaving the room that had been her home for much of her childhood. She shut the door behind her, and turned to walk down the high-ceilinged hallways of the Delacour Mansion.

She brushed her fingers slowly down the banister of the stairway as she walked downstairs – saying goodbye to her house, unsure of when she might come back. Her mother – tall, regal, with the same long blond hair as her both her daughters – was standing near the bottom of the stairs waiting for her. Gabrielle smiled, almost shyly, at her mother.

Apolline Delacour looked appraisingly at the form-fitting designer jeans she wore, her eyebrows rising slightly at the powder-blue t-shirt – it was one of the few times her daughter had ever worn one, much more often preferring elaborate blouses. Then again, she'd had a hard time getting her to refrain from showing off her body once her daughter had reached Maturation only a year before.

"You look every bit the young Muggle woman, my little Gabrielle." She said softly. "You will fit in quite nicely. I talked to your father. He's finally…. seen the light, shall we say?"

Gabrielle's face lit up and she broke into a grin and threw her arms tightly around her mother. "Thank you, _Maman_. I was worried I would have to leave without his blessing."

Apolline shook her head, holding her daughter close. "No, your father is stubborn, but not without sense. He just needs the right persuasion, and a few kicks in the correct direction."

Gabrielle smiled, and pulled away slightly. "Thank you."

Apolline nodded, and kissed her daughter on the forehead. "Be careful while you travel. Sometimes being a _Veela_ can be a curse whilst amongst some of the people you may run into. Remember all I and your _Grandmere_ have taught you, and you will make us proud." Apolline paused and then smiled slightly. "And _owl_ us. I don't want a repeat of your First Year."

Gabrielle flushed. "_Maman_," she groaned – her first year at Beauxbatons, she'd been so caught up in the excitement of the experience and in her studies that she had forgotten to write her parents, or even respond to their owls. Her father had finally Apparated directly to the school shortly about a month into the school-year to make her sit down and write out a letter to her worried mother to assure her she was all right. Her family had never let her live that one down.

"I know, my sweet. Now, your father is waiting in the study, so go talk to him so you can go to your beloved."

Gabrielle nodded, holding a hand up to her chest, a haunted look in her eyes. "He hurts so much, _Maman_. I only hope I will be enough."

"I know, so _go,_ don't leave him waiting. I love you, Gabrielle," she said, kissing her daughter's cheek, before putting her hands on her shoulders to turn her in the direction of the study and giving her a firm shove, so her daughter didn't see the tear that ran down her cheek.

'_He needs you now, more than we do,'_ she thought sadly to herself as she watched her daughter go, remembering the owl post that had arrived several weeks before from Fleur. It had been shocking, but it had explained why she'd had to calm her daughter for hours two nights before the letter when Gabrielle awoke nearly catatonic, convinced that her father was dead.

* * *

Gabrielle knocked softly on the solid oak door of her father's study, and only had to wait a few moments before she heard him call her inside. She turned the doorknob and opened the door to find her father sitting at his writing desk, which rested in one corner of the room – the rest of the room was taken over by tall bookshelves of his personal book collection, and several magical filing cabinets in which he kept his paperwork and records.

Jean-Pierre Delacour was a short, barrel-chested man, and it always amused Gabrielle the interesting ways she and her sister took after their parents. Fleur was tall and regal, just like her mother, yet she had the same stubbornness and straightforward bluntness that her father was well known for. While Gabrielle took after her father physically somewhat – she doubted she'd grow much more, leaving her only an inch taller than him – she had more of the sly and mischievous personality of her mother.

Jean-Pierre finished signing the bottom of a long parchment, and set his eagle quill down and closed the ornate gold inkwell before turning his chair around and standing up. He walked over to the window where a small brown owl was perched, and tied the parchment off on one of its legs and let it flap away to its destination.

He finally turned, and smiled wearily at his daughter, lines visible on his face, even around the sharply trimmed black beard covering his chin. He opened his arms, and she felt tears come to her eyes as she ran forward and let him hold her tightly.

"I'm sorry for how I've behaved, Gabrielle," he murmured softly. "I was wrong to treat this like some flight of fancy you'd come up with, I see that now – it's just, we never had to deal with this with Fleur…. Your mother explained it _fully_ to me, and I understand now. Forgive me?"

Gabrielle nodded into his shoulder. "_Oui, Papa_. Thank you."

Jean-Pierre sighed, and slowly pulled back, reaching down to tilt his daughter's chin so she met his eyes. "I hate this…. Letting you go like this. It seems like just yesterday you were learning to walk, and now….this."

"_Papa_," Gabrielle said softly, "I'm still your daughter, it's not like I'm disowning you and leaving forever."

"I know, I know," he said with a soft smile. "You are legally an adult now. And I hope I've taught you enough about defending yourself. Don't forget your magic as well."

He let go of her and turned back to the desk, picking up two items. He handed the first to her, and she nearly gasped when she recognized a Gringotts key. "This is a trust vault I've set up for you. Whatever you end up doing, whenever you need something, this will be here for you."

He raised a finger as she began to thank him, and then handed her a silver necklace with a plain mirror-like oval locket on the end. "Arranging a permanent International Portkey is impossible with what is going on, so this is an emergency device. You simply place it in contact with your skin and flip the locket open, and this will send a message to an instrument I have both here and at the office. I'll come to wherever you are, and I'm quite certain most of my Aurors will come as well."

She smiled warmly at him, especially at this last gift. He was the Head of the _Ministére de Justice Magique_, the French equivalent of the English DMLE, in command of the country's force of Hit Wizards, Aurors, and a number of smaller departments. He commanded a lot of respect in the government, his position third in the hierarchy behind the Deputy Minister. All he needed was to ask and he'd have dozens of Aurors jumping over one another to volunteer to help his daughter.

"Thank you, _Papa_, but the most important gift you could give me…."

He smiled. "I know, my blessing. You do have my blessing, Gabrielle. I've spent the past few weeks investigating your boy. He's… headstrong and prone to reckless heroic actions, but he's a good young man, and I… I suppose he will be a good Mate for you. He's willing to risk his life for even complete strangers, so I know he will do that much and more for one he loves. Just… when you get there, get him away from his Muggle relatives – his mother's sister and her family are said to not treat him very well. It's mostly speculation and rumor, but I don't believe he had a kind childhood with them, and likely still isn't, if Fleur's information is correct."

"Take care of him and be careful. We will always be here for you if you need us." He said, kissing her softly on the forehead as he helped her clasp the necklace behind her neck.

Gabrielle nodded, tears no longer being held in, instead running freely down her cheeks. "I love you _Papa_."

"I love you too, sweetheart. Your mother has your Portkey – it will get you to the French ministry offices near the Channel Tunnel. You've taken the International Floo before, and this will be a short trip across the Channel. You'll be alright finding him?"

"_Oui_, I will be able to find him – my heart knows where to go. Goodbye, _Papa_."

He inclined his head and hugged her one last time before letting her walk toward the door, where they both now realized Apolline had been quietly watching them.

Gabrielle stepped over to her mother, who handed her the Portkey – an official Ministry one in the form of a golden eagle feather. Gabrielle kissed her mother before she stepped back, looking longingly at both of them as she pulled out her wand and tapped the Portkey, which whisked her away in a whirl of color.

Jean-Pierre smiled sadly at his wife. "We really had no choice?" He asked softly, his lips quirking downward into a slight frown.

She shook her head and drew closer, letting his arm wrap around her waist. "_Non_, my love, she was going with or without our approval – she _needed_ to go. This was the right thing."

He sighed and nodded. "I guess – and I'm glad we gave her our approval, at least now we will know if she is in danger. Just hurts letting our last daughter leave like that and for that reason, while she's so young…." He shook his head, and looked back at the large stack of papers on the desk.

"Duty calls?" Apolline asked knowingly.

"Unfortunately. These Death Eaters seem to be branching out, recruiting from our country as well as others. I fear it may not be long before we are forced to stand united with Britain and be pulled into this war."

* * *

_**Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging **_

Harry Potter pulled a well-used, slightly oversized shirt over his head, as he got ready for his daily run. It was a habit he'd developed over the last several weeks since he'd returned from Hogwarts, to go for a run in the streets of Little Whinging once he'd finished his Dursley-assigned chores for the day.

He'd started the second day back, and found that running several miles every day on top of the current garden renovations at the Dursleys' house exhausted him enough to sleep through the night, even through the ever-present nightmares that haunted his sleep.

Ever since that night at the Ministry, he'd been having them and they taunted him over and over with Sirius' death and the injuries of his friends. The worst was when the dreams strayed away from what had actually happened, and instead took a life of their own, often ending with him forced to watch the deaths of all of his friends.

The physical exertion itself was also a good way to get his mind on something else, when every time he closed his eyes he could still see the surprised expression of Sirius' face as he fell through the Veil, as if it were painted on the backs of his eyelids.

Harry pulled on his trainers and laced them up before standing up from the bed. He'd almost made it to the door when he heard a soft thump behind him that he recognized instantly as his snowy white owl Hedwig.

He turned quickly – he'd only just sent her out with a letter to Hermione several minutes before – and found her resting on the windowsill looking rather cross. Her feathers were ruffled up, many out of place, and she held the torn remnants of his letter within her right talons.

"Hedwig, are you alright?" He exclaimed, moving quickly over to the window.

She gave him a very put-out glance, and lifted one of her wings and he saw where several feathers along her side were broken, as well as what looked like a long scratch as if something had scraped past her skin. It was puffy and red, but fortunately not bleeding.

He put the injury and her ruffled appearance as well as the torn up right half of the parchment together and realized what had happened. "You were attacked – was it Death Eaters?" He asked, glancing quickly out the window to scan the street.

She just stared at him, the sort of look Professor McGonagall would give a student who was being particularly dim in one of her classes.

"Erm, another bird?"

She let out a single hoot.

He glanced out the window again and looked up this time, to see a shape in the distance that looked like another bird that seemed to be circling in search of prey. It definitely wasn't an owl. Perhaps a hawk?

He looked back to Hedwig. "It's stopping you from delivering letters, isn't it girl?"

Hedwig let out a mournful hoot and slowly extended her talon so he could grab the ruined letter.

He took it and gently ran a finger across her head. "It's okay girl, you did your best. Thank you for saving what you could so I know what's going on."

Hedwig puffed up her chest proudly, and then spread her wings and flapped over to makeshift perch he'd set up outside her cage. He frowned slightly when he noticed she seemed to favor the wing that had been covering up the scratch.

"Sure you're okay, Hedwig? Is your wing going to be alright?" She was, while an owl, one of the closest friends he really had and his only company during summers, and he'd rush her to a veterinary clinic if need be, to hell with what his Order minders had to say.

She gave a reassuring hoot, and bent her head to begin slowly preening herself, trying to get her feathers back into place.

He sighed, and then looked down at the mangled letter he'd been trying to send. He had a niggling suspicion that the bird out there belonged to the Order. Last summer he'd been left to stew, his friends told to send him little or no news, so he wouldn't put it past the Headmaster to have decided to cut him off completely – which explained the main thing that had been bothering him: he hadn't gotten a single owl from any of his friends.

Sure, it wasn't unusual for Ron to not remember to send a letter until a month into his break. But he'd become closer with several more people the previous year, notably Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, and even Ginny Weasley who seemed to have overcome her crush on him that had once left it difficult to speak with her without her turning tomato-red and stammering – surely they would have sent something.

And to not get a letter from Hermione for nearly three weeks was staggeringly unheard of. He'd been fine with the lack of communication for the first week or so, but now longed to talk with _someone_, even if it was just about something besides Voldemort and his Death Eater attacks that had ramped up following his appearance at the Ministry.

He had begun to wonder if perhaps things between him and his friends weren't exactly as rosy as it had seemed when he'd stepped off the Hogwarts express. Did Hermione and the others blame him for them getting hurt at the Ministry? He wouldn't blame them for that – he felt sick at what he'd put them through, dragging them down there to get injured. Hermione had almost _died_ – the curse Dolohov used, according to Madam Pomfrey, had only been less-than lethal because of the silencing spell Hermione had used which forced him to cast it non-verbally.

He'd finally written his own letter to her, apologizing to her for leading her into the trap despite her warnings and pleadings that it could be one, and practically begging her to write – this was the ripped up one he now held in his hands.

Now, he realized, letters were being intercepted, and his friends were likely thinking the same about him – that he didn't want to talk with them. He balled the parchment up in anger and frustration, and dropped it onto the desk.

Dumbledore had promised to be even more open to him, and here he was most likely the person behind blocking his contact with the outside world. It certainly wasn't Voldemort – if he knew where Harry lived, he wouldn't be resorting to stealing his mail. The only one that made sense was Dumbledore and the Order.

Harry took a deep breath when he realized he'd been clenching his fists tightly in anger as he thought about Dumbledore and what he'd lived through because of the man's idea of 'protection'. He relaxed his hands and sat back, suddenly feeling the anger drain out of his body and be replaced with a calm that let him think clearly.

He'd made a promise to himself, after his talks with Luna and Nearly-Headless-Nick after Sirius' death, to try to reign in his anger issues. While he still felt it, he had to try to at least not let it cloud his judgment. The last few weeks with the Dursleys he'd found it become easier to quell his stronger emotions.

He rubbed his forehead absently as his mind ran over the problem. It was at times like these that he tried – and often failed – to think like Hermione would. Obviously there was no way to get owl post out, he wasn't going to risk Hedwig getting hurt worse. Giving a letter to the Order to pass along was out as well – no doubt Dumbledore had already instructed them not to be post carriers given the blockade on post he'd already set up. Phoning her would be impossible, the Dursleys would never allow that.

Harry snapped his fingers when he heard the postman's lorry rumble up outside the Dursley's house. It would take some looking to find Hermione's address, but if he could figure out the right Granger listing, he could send her post Muggle-style. One thing he'd noticed was that Wizards tended to be rather ignorant of Muggle things, and often overlooked them. All he had to do was post it from the local office during one of his runs, and there was a good chance she'd get it.

He looked at his watch and groaned, when he saw that he only had time for a short run. He'd have to post the letter tomorrow, when he had time to rewrite it.

Harry took one last glance at Hedwig, who seemed to be recovering nicely, and then walked out of the small bedroom, down the stairs, and out the front door.

He glanced around, knowing the Order member on duty was watching from under Invisibility Cloak, and then walked down the drive. As his feet hit the sidewalk he turned and started with a slow jog to warm himself up.

As he slowly but surely added speed to his gait, he realized that even if the short run didn't get his mind off of the events at the Ministry, fuming to himself over the letter embargo would certainly do the trick.

* * *

_**French Ministry Border Office, Coquelles, France**_

Gabrielle landed neatly on her feet – all her years of dance and ballet lessons truly paid off when landing after Portkey travel, leaving her without even the customary stumble upon that wizards twice her age experienced and certainly not the crash-landing that those unfamiliar with it received.

She stepped quickly out of the Portkey point, designated by a circle painted on the floor, and walked past several other identical points. She stopped at the main desk of the large empty room where she gave the attendant the Portkey and signed her name on a long list of travelers. Ministry Portkeys were quite regulated, and needed to be signed in and out, before and after their use.

She thanked the bored-looking woman at the desk, and walked toward the low door that led out into the rest of the building. It opened up on a long, brick-walled corridor, and she followed the signs to the International Floo Station.

Gabrielle glanced into the large room and sighed to herself at the crowd that gathered as their turn was called, before they walked forward in a line, disappearing one after the other in a flash of green fire from the five large fireplaces on the side wall.

She made her way through the mass of bodies, and fought down the bile that rose in her throat as men pressed against her – most of them accidentally, but the few that did it on purpose, looking at her with interest, caused her to shudder. She clamped down on her Veela Allure, ensuring that none of it escaped and made things even worse, and finally made it up to the desk.

A harried-looking man glanced up at her as she stepped up to the desk, and he held out a hand. She placed her magical passport in it, and he turned the small booklet to flip through it and scan his eyes down the information alongside her picture.

He nodded and flipped it shut. He passed it back to her, and then handed her a slip of paper, with the number '139' on it. "There's a sitting area over there," he said pointing to a large area away from the mass of people. "Please wait there until your number is called and then move forward. We have enough idiots standing out of turn already," he nodded to the crowd.

She smiled politely. "Of course, sir. I don't wish to brave that crowd more than I have to."

He seemed to relax slightly, and a thin smile came to his face – so few people listened to the instructions. "Have a good trip, miss. Remember, this is a closed Floo circuit with only one destination, so you merely need to step into the fire, don't say any destination. Too many people don't listen and arrive in England having inhaled a cloud of Floo Powder. Have a good trip."

"Thank you," she said, and gave him another smile before turning to walk over to the near-empty chairs of the waiting area, taking a seat in the most unoccupied section as she heard the number '120' being called.

She settled into the seat, knowing it would be a long wait – each of the numbers would be called, and a line of five would form in front of each of the five fireplaces. Once all twenty-five were through, they would wait until England sent their batch along in the opposite way, alternating trips.

Gabrielle glanced around at the others in the waiting area, feeling a hint of worry in her chest, but no one seemed to be paying her any mind. It was only when she felt a spike of anger that left her breathless and caused her hand to shoot up to her chest, that she realized the worry had – much like the sadness earlier – not been her own.

She took several deep, calming breaths and closed her eyes, letting her consciousness drift down through her Veela senses, to the link between her and her Mate. She focused and sent the calm feelings down the link, the only thing she'd been able to do all these weeks to help him.

She smiled softly to herself as she felt the anger lessen, and fade away – either she was getting better at sending it, or he was becoming better at receiving her emotional nudges. Her eyes finally opened, bringing her reluctantly back to the warm, odor-filled Apparition room, just in time to hear her number called.

Her eyes widened slightly – oftentimes accessing the Bond like that took much longer than it seemed, minutes passing in what seem like seconds. Glancing down at her watch as she stood up and shouldered her bag, she realized a good twenty minutes had passed.

She walked reluctantly into the crowd, trying to find small openings in the groups of people until she could reach the lines for the Floo. She even waited several moments so that she ended up squeezed between two witches, rather than the man that had been in front of her.

That was a side-effect of the Bond: other than her father, there was only one man in the world whose touch would not turn her stomach, and that was her Mate's. It had wreaked havoc on her since she'd Matured and the link had grown. It had been difficult at Beauxbatons where she was in close quarters with many male students, especially in the first few months as she slowly learned to control the Allure.

But at least there, there were rules about unwanted touching that kept things somewhat at bay – here, especially in a crowd like this, there was little to stop it, other than making sure that only witches were near her.

The Floos flared a bright green as the first travelers stepped in, and the line she was in slowly shuffled forward, one at a time as people disappeared through the flames.

Finally it was Gabrielle's turn, and remembering the advice of the border agent, she held her breath as she stepped into the green flames, saving herself a lungful of Floo powder as she whirled away through the Floo Network.

As the high-speed trip came to an end moments later she nearly stumbled on the raised edge of the fireplace, but managed to find her footing as she stepped out into the much larger English Ministry Floo Station. Although it was much larger, the room half again the size of the one she'd just been in, it was also even more crowded.

She skirted the outer edge of the crowd to get to the door that led to the exit. Once outside she found herself in another line, where several Aurors stood guard as a ministry official checked the passports of each person leaving the room.

She stepped up to the desk and handed him her passport, which he took gruffly and opened, glancing several times from her picture to herself – thankfully she'd had to get a new one this year, otherwise she knew she looked very little like the girl she had been at the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"Reason for your visit?" he asked in a monotone voice.

"Visiting my sister," she said, having already planned her answers ahead of time. "And possibly application to Hogwarts."

His eyebrow rose slightly, and then he nodded. He pulled out a large metal object, dipped the end in ink, and then stamped her passport, handing it back before giving her a dismissive wave. "Move along now, girl. The Aurors will scan you for Dark objects, otherwise you're free to enter. Next!"

Gabrielle continued on to the Aurors who stood on either side of the doorway that led to the exit. She stopped and waited patiently as they scanned up and down her body with their wands emitting a violet light. The female Auror took her bag and ran the same scan over it before handing it back. "You're free to go, ma'am," she said kindly. "Enjoy your stay."

Gabrielle smiled at her, and walked through the doorway once they stepped to either side of it. She didn't spend much time in the Ministry building – she'd seen more than enough of it on the little tour her father had been taken on when they'd visited several years ago when the two countries were entering talks on restarting the Triwizard Tournament.

Instead she found the main hallway that led outside, and walked swiftly down it, dodging people as she went, until she reached the large doors that led outside. She found herself outside a building that had been built right along the shore of the Channel, and she took a breath of the crisp evening air as she glanced out at the twinkling lights of ships navigating the waterway.

She shook her head slightly and then pulled out her wand, raising it with her arm as she willed a bit of magic through her to call for the Knight Bus – France had its own version, but from what she'd heard from Fleur, the experience on the English version was quite something.

She waited like that for several moments before a *bang* echoed through the air as the triple-decker bus appeared suddenly in front of her. A young man with protruding ears opened the door and greeted her. She handed him the requisite amount of sickles. "Little Whinging, please," she said softly, and then moved to the back of the bus to settle in for the coming wild ride through the night streets.

* * *

**Authors Notes:** Thanks everyone for reading thus far, hopefully you'll want to read more! Please, let me know what you think, be it good or bad, things you think could be improved, etc. I listen to all advice (don't always act on it, but most times I do given there are so many better writers out there than me). So please, review, try to remain constructive, although I won't care if you really want to flame me.

Warning - I suck at French, so any French in the story will likely be from online translators which aren't always trustworthy. I apologize to those who speak the language if I happen to butcher it (note that the Gabrielle/parents scene would be all in French, simply written in English for everyone to easily understand)

Hope to have the next chapter up within a week - we'll see a bit of Hermione, and we'll see Gabrielle meet Harry.

Until next time!


	2. Chapter 2: Bonded

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or related characters or concepts. Not making money off this story, simply writing for both my enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of my readers._

_**A/N:**__ Hello again y'all. Glad to see the positive reception my first chapter received, and thank you kindly for the great reviews! This chap should answer HPfan29's question on Gabby's age (and yes, Harry is 15, about to turn 16). Anyway, hope you enjoy, read and review!_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_**Little Whinging**__** – Near Midnight – June 14, 1996**_

Gabrielle heard the soft bang-thump of the Knight Bus snapping back behind its wards as it took off. She leaned down to grab her bag from where the conductor had placed it, and quickly shouldered it as she looked around the streets of identical houses that filled the neighborhood of Little Whinging.

She shook her head as she looked at lawn after manicured lawn – many of the houses even had the same model of automobile outside, some even identical colors. She simply couldn't imagine living in a place like this where conformity ruled, and everything seemingly needed to be perfect.

Pushing that thought aside, she realized that the vague information Fleur had been able to collect on her Mate's whereabouts was correct – she felt him now, nothing at all like the Bond had felt when she was thousands of miles away. It was as if she had been in some sort of protective suit the last year, which had deadened her senses, and now it was removed.

She could feel the pure power of the link pouring into her, and it was almost frightening just how strong the link was up this close. She straightened confidently, and looked down inward at the link, and began following the thick rope of magic only visible to her eyes, knowing it would lead her to him.

She had to check herself several times, to avoid running into fences as she focused on the Bond, keeping her wits about her just enough to make sure she followed the roads toward the other end of the Bond, rather than trying to make shortcuts of her own through the yards of Little Whinging.

She found that the Knight Bus seemed to have deposited her in the center of the suburb – she was almost certain it had been as close to the exact center as possible, given the vague 'address' she'd given, magic like that tended to work that way.

As a result she was forced to walk several miles as she followed the Bond, as it seemed he lived in the southwest reaches of the town. She eventually passed a small, broken-down looking park, when she felt the pull become stronger, and she found herself walking faster, as if pulled to it like a moth to a light.

She forced herself to slow down several streets later when she saw the large tendril of magic stretch out away from her and up toward a bedroom window in a house up ahead of her.

Gabrielle forced her sight away from it and slowly made her way down the sidewalk, deliberately paying no attention to the house. As she did so, she focused instead on her Veela senses. It didn't take long to single out the road in front of her and ignore the feedback she was getting from so many people – although the rather amorous couple in the house across the road made it slightly difficult.

She didn't really know how to explain her senses, not in words that made sense. She'd tried for quite some time with her father, but it was like trying to explain sight to someone born blind. It just…. was. The best she'd been able to explain to him was something like a mix between smell, vision, and aura sensing.

She found what she was looking for, sitting on the manicured lawn in front of the house. She couldn't see the man with her eyes, likely he was under a Disillusionment Charm or an Invisibility Cloak. That didn't matter – she could sense him, as well as 'smell' his hormones wafting from him to her slight distaste.

She didn't want to know what was going on under whatever was hiding him. Since he was already in a bit of a state, she decided to simply release her Allure. She hesitantly lifted the restraints she'd learned to form on it, and let it flow freely.

She shook her head when she watched the waves of magical energy flow out and wind themselves around him. She watched as her senses showed him turn red in her sight, a color that indicated he was totally in her thrall. The Allure wasn't like an Imperius curse, but rather lowered ones inhibitions and worked on their attractions – if completely in the thrall of an Allure, the person would do anything they were asked so long as it was something they were already willing to do.

"This is the person they use to guard him? I expected some sort of challenge," she muttered to herself.

She made her way over to the man, who seemed to have fallen over under the Allure, the edge of an Invisibility cloak slipping off to reveal his straggly ginger colored hair.

"Hello," she said softly.

She winced when she simply got a drooling groan as a response, hoping she hadn't scrambled the man's brain.

"Is there a way to get into the house without using magic?"

"Y-y-yeah," he croaked out. "K-key, under th-the f-f-first stepping stone out b-back."

She rolled her eyes at his stuttering, nervous response. "You've done a wonderful job guarding young 'arry, but he doesn't need your services tonight. So, you're going to go out to a pub and celebrate, and forget all about this by tomorrow morning."

He nodded dumbly, staring at her with glazed-over eyes.

She smiled at him, and made a shooing gesture with her hand. "Go on now, you've more than earned this – 'ave fun for yourself."

The man smiled, stood up, and began shuffling off, almost mechanically folding up the Invisibility Cloak and stuffing it in his pocket before he Apparated with a sharp *CRACK* that sent a dog several houses down into a barking fit.

She shook her head again, wondering how such a weak-minded individual could have been given approval by Dumbledore and his Order to watch Harry.

Gabrielle straightened up and then checked her Veela senses once more to make sure there were no more hidden guards around the house. Satisfied there were none, she made her way up the drive, cutting through the grass to the fence at the side of the house where she had spotted a gate. She went onto the tips of her toes to stretch an arm over to the other side, and grasped blindly with her hand until she felt the cool metal of the latch, which she pulled to the side to unlock the gate.

She swung it open and stepped into the small backyard, which looked to be just as neatly kept as the front, and then closed and locked the gate behind her. She found the small path of stepping stones that led from the back porch to a small shed and a greenhouse, and remembered she'd spotted a similar path out front along the hydrangeas that lined the mulched flowerbeds. She realized with a slight grin that this was a family that prided itself on appearances, and would likely have had a heart attack seeing her trample along in the grass as she had.

Gabrielle knelt in the cool, dew-covered grass next to the first of the white stepping stones, and placed her hands on either side of the dinner plate-sized white stone, managing to slip some fingers underneath. She gave it a pull and the stone – much heavier than she'd expected – flipped over to reveal a brass-colored key pressed into the soil from the weight of the rock.

She grabbed the key and then flipped the stepping stone back into its rightful place. She stood, brushing her hands briskly together to rid them of the dirt, and then walked the several remaining feet to the back door. The key slid in and turned smoothly, and she entered the house, remaining as silent as she could.

As she pocketed the key, deciding it might come in handy later and it was unlikely its absence would be noticed, she glanced around the clean kitchen unlit and in shadows, the New Moon not visible in the night sky to provide any light.

She crept through the room, noting a television set near the table, and entered the living room, the neatly cleaned look there as well, confirming her suspicions of the Dursleys.

Gabrielle felt a sudden tug on her Bond, a sensation of resigned fear and sorrow, and she quickened her pace as she walked through the room and up the stairs. She stopped once when one of the stairs creaked loudly, and waited until she was sure she could still hear the loud, droning, almost walrus-like sounds of snoring echoing from the hall upstairs before she moved again.

She glanced back into the Bond once more and followed it as it pulled her toward a door at the end of the hall, past several other doors where the snoring sounds were emanating.

As she reached the door she saw a series of deadbolts and chain locks on it that looked as if they had seen use in the past, as well as what looked like a small doggy-door, or cat-flap.

She hissed out a breath through clenched teeth. Here was arguably one of the most powerful wizards, and certainly one of the most famous, and these…. These Muggles caged him like a dog?

'_They have no right!'_ she thought furiously. Her father had mentioned the possibility his Muggle relatives had treated him unkindly as he grew up, but hearing it and seeing it were entirely different things.

Her fingers twitched near the wand in the holder on her hip. For a moment she was about to turn around, go into each of their rooms and hex them until they begged for mercy, but she felt the same tug on the bond once more, and instantly brought her hand up to the doorknob – she could deal with them later, her Mate needed her.

She turned the doorknob and opened the door slowly, hoping she wouldn't startle him, and breathed out a soft sigh when the door opened fully, revealing he was asleep on his bed. She closed the door behind her and let her eyes run over him.

His sheets had been kicked aside, and he was lying curled inward on himself, knees pulled up to his chest, wearing only his boxers, she realized with a slight blush. Any thoughts of ogling him like that went out the window when she saw his sweaty mess of black hair clinging to his face as he shook his head, muttering something to himself, obviously dreaming.

He twisted around and onto his back, and she saw his hands tighten into fists and felt anger and fear pulse across the link – not just dreaming, having a nightmare. "No, Sirius! Please don't…" he muttered, his teeth clacking together as his jaw clenched.

Gabrielle dropped her bag to the floor and rushed across the room, perching herself on the bed next to him as she reached out with her hand to push back his sweat-soaked hair.

As her fingertips met the warm skin of his forehead, she gasped - simply touching him felt electric. She wasn't sure if it was finally being in contact with her Mate, or his strong magic interacting with hers, or both; but she quickly flattened her palm out across the skin of his forehead, relishing the tingling contact as she brushed the raven-colored hair from his forehead and whispered soothingly to him.

He stilled somewhat at her touch, and his eyes cracked open sleepily moments later.

"It's alright, 'Arry, you're safe. Go back to sleep, I'll keep your dreams safe," she said gently.

His eyes slid shut slowly, a relaxed smile appearing on his face.

It was because of that, that his reaction several long moments later when his brain processed that what had just happened was not a dream, caught her completely by surprise.

He sprang up from his bed with a soft cry, and she fell from her already precarious position half-sitting on the edge of the bed, and landed firmly on her backside. Harry rolled the other way and off the bed, landing with a hard thump on one knee, as he grabbed his wand from its place hidden under the bed.

He jabbed the wand in her direction as she shakily stood. She could feel his magical power roiling off of him, and saw the end of the wand begin to glow with pent-up magic. "Who the bloody hell are you?" He asked, his voice low enough to not wake the Dursleys.

She smiled softly. "Oh, 'Arry, 'ave you rescued so many young girls in your life that you cannot remember our names?" She asked, amusement clear in her voice.

Harry squinted. The voice was young and feminine, a slightly French accent audible, but certainly not Fleur's, and besides, he hadn't rescued Fleur, only – "Gabrielle?" He asked softly, keeping his wand trained on her as he snatched his glasses from the nightstand.

"_Oui_," she said as he slid his glasses on.

His eyes widened as he looked at the young woman in front of him. She was certainly not the little girl he'd pulled from the lake. She was… stunning. Tight jeans and a t-shirt that hugged her, showed off some rather pronounced curves –they definitely weren't the typical features of a pre-teen. She'd gotten taller as well - the top of her head would likely reach his nose height-wise – and her silver-blond hair was cut at her shoulders rather than waist-length.

It was her face that made him realize she was who she claimed. It was much the same - her soft powder blue eyes looking at him gently, her lips upturned in a grin, albeit much fuller than he'd remembered; but except for her features being more feminine, more mature, he could still see the Gabrielle he remembered from the Tournament.

His wand wavered slightly, and the light at the end disappeared. "Gabrielle… you look… you've grown up a lot," he said awkwardly.

She smiled mysteriously, revealing her perfectly white teeth. "So 'ave you," she said looking over him with an intensity that made him somewhat nervous.

That was when he glanced down and realized he was wearing only his boxers. He blushed brightly, and lowered his wand for enough time to quickly grab a t-shirt off the floor and pull it over his head.

Gabrielle seemed to pout prettily when the shirt settled across his chest and he brought his wand back up to focus on her. "I'm sure you thought I was quite young, 'Arry, but the Second Task was only a few days before I turned _treize_ – thirteen years old, and now I 'ave been fourteen for four months. Veela 'ave… an interesting childhood and… what is the word? …Puberty"

Harry's eyes widened at that – he'd have figured her to be eight or nine when he'd seen her in the Lake and afterward when she and Fleur thanked him. "I guess so," he said softly, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what possible reason she had for being in the room while also trying to wrap itself around the concept of Veela puberty. "Um, not that I don't mind the company, but – why exactly are you here, in my room?"

She sighed softly. "I thought you might not realize it, when you did not respond to me."

"My Owl Post is being intercepted," he said in explanation to what he thought she meant.

She laughed softly, the melodic sound echoing through the quiet, dark room. "No, not Owl Post. I will explain everything…. But perhaps we can sit on your bed? It seems silly to keep standing 'ere staring at each other from across the room."

Harry hesitated slightly. "Give me your wand," he finally said, deciding he felt safe enough if he at least had that from her, in case she was Polyjuiced or something – though for the life of him he couldn't think of why someone would Polyjuice themselves as a girl he barely knew just to get to him.

Gabrielle reached down to her pants pocket and pulled her wand out without the slightest hesitation and turned it lengthwise to rest in both palms, which she held out toward him, her head bowed almost submissively.

He moved forward and took it from her hands and then nodded, and sat down at the head of the bed with a wand palmed in each hand carefully keeping them out of her reach. She clambered onto the foot of the bed, and sat facing him, her knees almost touching his.

"So," he said uncertainly, acutely aware now that he was alone in his room at night, sitting on his bed with a rather gorgeous girl who was only about a year younger than him and could pass herself off as a girl in his own Year without any effort.

"I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning, _non_?" She said quietly, her eyes focusing intently on his face.

Harry nodded hesitantly. "I guess so, but you're the one that knows what you've got to say," he said with a wry grin.

"Indeed," she said, one corner of her mouth twitching upward in her own lopsided smile.

She took a deep breath. "I think it's best to start there – it began at the Triwizard tournament. Only the last two years of students were allowed to go to 'ogwarts and stay for the entire Tournament. Younger children like me were only able to attend the Tasks, and only with our parent's approval. I was lucky because Fleur was competing, so my parents wanted to go, and brought me with them."

"I was so 'appy. I not only got to see my sister compete in this famous Tournament, I also got the chance to see the Boy-Who-Lived in person." She held up a hand when he wrinkled his nose and scowled at that. "Please do not blame me, I was a silly little girl who grew up on stories of the courageous defeater of one of the most powerful Dark Lords. I realized quickly when I saw you face the dragon that you were not some… larger-than-life figure, you were a boy – a very powerful boy, but still a boy not much older than I."

She shook her head. "I think that is when I started seeing you as 'Arry Potter, not the Boy-Who-Lived. And then the Second Task… you saved my life-"

He started to protest. "Not really, I found out afterwards everyone was really safe, the whole riddle was just to scare us into getting the task finished in time."

"That is where you are wrong, 'Arry. Your 'eadmaster came to me and my parents before the task and asked if I would like to 'elp my sister. Of course I said yes, and my parents agreed when 'e assured them I was safe. I was to be put into an enchanted sleep, and Fleur would rescue me."

Gabrielle's eyes flashed. "Fleur 'ad no idea what was under that Lake. No one did, except for those from 'ogwarts. She did not even know I was 'er prize until she 'ad failed, and 'eard from the announcer exactly what you and the others were facing. 'ad we known, my parents would not 'ave allowed either of us down there."

When Harry frowned, she continued. "Apparently, your 'eadmaster, and the idiots setting up the challenge didn't know of the 'istory between the Veela and the Merpeople."

"What sort of history?" Harry asked, still in the dark as to what she was trying to explain.

"Thousands of years ago," Gabrielle started, "the Veela and Merpeople descended from Nymphs. The Merpeople came about through the Water Nymphs breeding with 'umans, while the Veela through the Mountain Nymphs. For a long time there was peace among our peoples, and we even had an alliance with one another, 'elping each other fight off our enemies.."

"Then, about fifteen-hundred years ago, we came into conflict with an empire in Europe, ruled by men, who wanted our lands and wanted our women. We fought for nearly a decade on our own, and finally convinced the Merpeople to help us in a great battle near the Black Sea."

Harry was startled when she growled deep in her throat. "It was a trick. The Merpeople had made peace with the Men, and betrayed us, and our great army fell squeezed between the Men on the land and the Merpeople in the sea, and we were forced to surrender or die. The Merpeople had taught the Men of an Ancient Magic, and they used it that day to force the Veela there into slavery if they 'ad been captured after being defeated in battle. They became little more than whores to be used for pleasure for the Men, with the Servitude Bond forced upon them. Only a few 'undred of us lived elsewhere or managed to escape the battle and continue as Free Veela."

"Bloody hell," Harry breathed.

"The leader of the Veela was a great sorceress, but even she could not escape, and became the personal slave to their king. But on that day before the Ancient Magic took 'er, she used the last of 'er power to lay a curse on every one of the Merpeople for their treachery. It took their beauty, and replaced it with a 'arsh look, like the fish they swam with."

Harry nodded slightly. He'd wondered about that – most of the stories he'd heard before coming to the magical world had Merpeople portrayed as handsome and beautiful men and women with fins for their bottom half of their body, but the Merpeople he'd encountered in the lake had been rather unattractive in appearance.

"Since then, we 'ave been at war with each other. Not directly always, we do try to avoid one another, but there 'ave been several bloody battles, the most recent two 'undred years ago in the Mediterranean. So, they 'ave lived in jealousy of our beauty for all these years, and we 'ave lived largely in slavery. My family is fortunately from those that managed to remain Free Veela."

"There's still Veela in this Servitude thing?" Harry asked, his expression darkening – in many ways it was even worse than the House Elf situation.

Gabrielle nodded. _"Oui_. The empire that enslaved them became the country of Bulgaria, with a few pockets of enslaved Veela elsewhere. Their descendents were bonded from birth to the same life as their parents."

Harry's eyes widened. "So, all those Veela at the World Cup?"

Gabrielle grimaced. "_Oui_, they are used publicly as 'cheerleaders'. These days the Ministry in Bulgaria does not want it widely known that they are essentially sex-slaves in private."

Harry shook his head. "Sounds like Britain isn't the only country with a horrible Ministry. So, when you said I saved you life, you-"

She nodded. "You really did. The Merpeople sent their pets, the Grindylows, to keep Fleur from reaching me. I suspect if they 'ad been able to they would 'ave killed her. But with 'er out of the way at least, once everyone was gone, they were probably planning an 'accident' for me before anyone came to save me. They did not count on my savior, though," she said with a warm smile.

"They really didn't want me to take you… they sent those Grindylows at the end after me," he muttered, realizing that the long-fingered creatures had gone selectively after Fleur, and only went after someone else – him – when he was bringing Gabrielle to the surface. He also remembered Hermione telling him that the Merpeople kept them as a sort of pet or 'guard dog'.

"The enchanted sleep they put us under, was not a real sleep, it just mimicked it. We could 'ear what was 'appening around us. At first I thought it was a dream, I felt weightless, just floating. Then I thought it a nightmare when I heard the Merpeople speaking, but I remembered agreeing to help Fleur and I realized it was really happening, I – "

Gabrielle shivered, wrapping her arms around her midsection. Harry looked at her with concern, and reached out to rest his hand on her knee, unsure what else to do.

She shot him a grateful look. "I was convinced I was going to die, that I would never see Fleur, or _Maman_ or _Papa_ again, especially when I 'eard the Merpeople start to argue. And then I was rising through the water, and when I opened my eyes I was floating next to your friend, and I found out that you 'ad saved me."

"Fleur was a mess, I think she was crying more than I was when they pulled me out onto the dock. But by then the only thing I was thinking about was you, and 'ow you saved me when you didn't 'ave to – I realized that that was the real you, not the stories written in the books or in the newspaper by that wretched Skeeter woman." She smiled softly, and moved her arm to let her hand rest atop his on her knee.

He swallowed audibly, and forced himself to tear his eyes away from her slender jean-encased leg where their hands were now joined, and back up to her face. "Obviously this has something to do with why you're here," he began.

Gabrielle nodded to him. "I wanted you to know what really happened there, and why you saving me was so important to me, because you literally _did_ save my life. I wanted you to understand before I told you what happened after that moment, when I came over after Fleur, and kissed your cheek."

She took a deep breath. "'Ave you ever 'eard of a Veela Mate Bond?"

He shook his head. "I take it that's different than that enslaving thing you mentioned?"

"It is, but in a way it is similar. Both are enforced by magic. But a Veela Mate Bond is something the Veela herself can choose. It forms a bond of magic between a Veela and her Mate, a very strong bond."

Harry's eyes widened as things clicked together in his mind. "W-we, you're here to tell me we have one? When you kissed my cheek?"

Gabrielle smiled, pleased that he seemed to be getting it. "_Oui_. It was accidental, consciously at least, but it happened."

"So, you're here to tell me how to break it? Stop it from linking us together? How do we do that?"

Gabrielle paled, her mouth opening in shock as she seemed to shrink back into herself. This certainly wasn't what she'd been expecting – did he really want to be free of her? She'd never once given that consideration, thinking he'd be happy with it even if he hadn't known about it and had her explain it.

"H-Harry, please do not break it… not yet… not until you 'ave 'eard me through. It would… be very painful for me," she lied. "Please, listen to everything and take your time to think about this. If you still want to break it tomorrow…. I will show you 'ow," she said, not meeting his eyes.

In reality, the bond breaking would be beyond just painful – it would be devastating to her. Her magic would be stripped and incorporated into his magical core, and she'd lose the will to live. She would stop eating, drinking, and eventually moving, and just find a place to sit until her body died. It was the price of her magic, of such a Bond, to ensure the Veela considered their Mate carefully and ensured the Mate's own consent by allowing them an 'out'.

She couldn't tell him that – couldn't force him to accept her, because she knew if he was aware of the true effects it would have on her, he'd sacrifice his own happiness to save her life. She didn't want him to do that – she wanted him to willingly accept her – nor did she want him to resent her the rest of his life. If he did reject her, she'd show him how to break the Bond and then leave for home and remain there until she died and make sure he'd never find out what had happened.

He was surprised at her reaction, especially when he saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. He squeezed her knee where his hand still rested – for some reason he just couldn't come up with a reason to move it.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I-I guess I misunderstood. I thought you came to get me to break it. You know more about it than I do, and I just thought-" he shrugged. "I'll let you explain it, and then we'll decide together, okay?"

He heard her breathe a soft sigh of relief, and she managed to look up at him. "Okay. _Merci_."

"This bond – it's not like the whole Veela charm thing, is it? I'm not being hypnotized or whatever it is, am I?" He asked suddenly as the thought popped into his head.

She shook her head firmly. "_Non_, 'Arry. I could turn on my full Allure right now, and you would not feel a thing. The Bond neutralizes that. It is made purely of magic. I… cared for you, and I think your magic felt that. When I kissed your cheek, it was like being pulled by a magnet."

"So I… my magic did it?" Harry asked, looking uneasy at her description.

"Subconsciously your mind let your magic do it, I think. But mine did too, so you did not force it if that is what you are worried about, 'Arry."

Harry ran a hand through his still-sweaty hair and nodded, looking relieved. "So, what's this Bond do?"

She smiled, glad to be back more on the sort of discussion territory she'd prepared for. "It links us together, 'Arry. We 'ave a strong bond with this. I'll admit I get a bit more of the benefit…. a power boost to my magic mostly, although you get a slight one as well. Emotions can be sent down the bond – with practice you can sense the emotions of the Bond Mate. I'm sure you've felt me even if you don't realize it."

Harry frowned in thought for a moment, before his eyes widened. "When I'm angry!" He said suddenly. "I've been able to control my anger a lot better, and it's felt like I get… calm… really quickly. I thought I was just making progress in controlling it," he said, somewhat disappointed.

"Oh no, 'Arry, you 'ave done admirably. All I can do is send you feelings of calm and relaxation – it is your mind that 'as to accept them and use them to counter your anger. I 'ave just given you… a nudge. It is the same when you are sad," she said quietly.

He averted his gaze from her when she mentioned the sadness he'd been feeling this summer – such deep sadness that his chest would ache as if his heart had broken apart inside him.

She took note and didn't continue – she knew from Fleur what had happened, and didn't want to push him on this.

* * *

Harry was quiet for several long minutes, grateful that she didn't continue to press that particular subject.

"Thanks. For helping, I mean." He finally managed.

"_De rien_," she said kindly. "There is more I think I can do, as well, 'Arry. You 'ave a strong magic in you. I think you could be one of the most powerful wizards on the planet." He started to protest, but she continued. "It's true, 'Arry. I can feel it – I _felt_ it back then when I was only just developing as a Veela. You 'ave a special kind of power. Fleur felt it as well, and my _Maman_ felt it without ever coming near you. She's the one that explained it to me, and I would like to do the same for you."

Harry looked at her curiously, and then nodded, and she continued.

"Veela are often seen as experts in Love and similar emotions like devotion, mainly because we can manipulate those emotions. They are strong emotions, and 'ave a certain power within Magic. A Patronus Charm, for example, can drive away the darkest of beings, and it is powered by 'appiness and Love. Some of the most powerful magic is Love Magic."

She sighed. "We are not really experts - this is such a mysterious and ancient power that I do not think anyone could really be considered that - but we do know much more than most wizards, and we can affect those emotions in people. But it is really witches and wizards who can 'ave the true power over this. It is rare, but when it happens, the wizard or witch can become… _immensément_…. I don't know your word for it… uhh, very powerful," she said after struggling over the word.

"King Solomon was a great wizard," she continued, "and as you know, Solomon 'ad 'undreds of wives and concubines, and many loyal soldiers. 'e knew about this power and used it to 'is advantage – it is said 'e could even use this power to bind and control the most evil spirits and even demons. Helen of Troy was another, but it is believed she was untrained, and didn't understand 'er powers, and became the 'face that launched a thousand ships', and the main cause of the Trojan Wars. 'er problem was that she was loved by men from very different cultures who chose to go to war over it."

She smiled. "There are others - even your 'eadmaster is somewhat proficient at it and 'as some very loyal followers, but 'is magic is weak in that regard, not even close to equal to a Veela – he can inspire trust and some devotion with it, but that is all."

"But you are so strong that it frightened my _Maman_ greatly when she first felt it. You 'ave this power based in Love, and you don't even realize it. I can 'elp you, teach you all I know, show you 'ow to use it," she finished.

He watched her closely for a minute, mulling over what she had told him. She seemed to be spot on, at least so far as what Dumbledore had told him about his 'power the dark lord knows not'. And as far as he could tell from her statements she didn't seem to have been sent here by Dumbledore – if anything she was more cross at the man than he was, and for good reason given the Tournament.

On one hand, here she was, telling him they were bonded together as some sort of mates, which was a bit… well, both intriguing and unsettling. And yet she knew about this power, and was even offering to help him learn as much as he could about it – something he realized Dumbledore had not bothered to offer him that night in the Headmaster's office or even last days of the school year after that night.

He had no contact with the outside world other than what Dumbledore and the Order decided to give him – so far nothing at all – but now he could have someone. There was no way he was going to say no to this, as long as he knew what this Bond entailed.

He looked down at his lap, and finally awkwardly extracted his hand from where it was sandwiched between her hands and her knee. She was startled when he started blushing. "This Mate thing… that means we're… y'know… supposed to mate or something?"

He flinched slightly when she moved forward and grasped his chin in her soft hands and tugged his face up so he was looking into her eyes. "It means that we are 'ighly compatible for that sort of thing, yes, and if… if you decide not to break the Bond, that could eventually 'appen between us. But I will not force that on you. We can be friends, we can be life-long companions, even lovers," she said, and saw his face flush further at that, "we can be anything that you are comfortable with."

He found himself almost getting lost as he stared into her bright blue eyes. He finally reached up and grabbed her hands and gently pulled them away. "Gabrielle, I… don't know… I don't know you, at all, really."

He hurried quickly when he saw her expression fall. "But, I'd like to. You seem like a great girl, and I'd love to get to know you. Let's use this Bond to our advantage." He scratched his head. "I'm not going to turn down your offer to help me – bloody hell, I can use all the help I can get right now with Voldemort after me."

Harry squeezed both her hands and then let them go. "Let's become friends, and see where we go from there, okay?"

She nodded quickly, relieved, and darted forward to kiss his cheek. "Thank you 'Arry. I will 'elp you in any way I can."

Harry yawned, and she followed suit quickly after. "I'm sorry, I'm pretty knackered. D'you have a place you're staying at, or….?" He trailed off, unsure of what she'd had planned.

Gabrielle blushed slightly. "I 'ad… 'oped I could stay 'ere, if you did not mind. I can go to the Leaky Cauldron, though, if you wish."

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I don't mind, but… the Dursleys – my uncle would kill me if-"

Her expression darkened, the look in her eyes almost animal. "Let me take care of them," she said firmly.

"Okay," he said dubiously, wondering if she knew just what she was getting into. "You can stay here for tonight at least anyways."

Harry grabbed one of the two small pillows he'd managed to scrounge from the Dursleys, tossed it to the floor against the nightstand, and started to sit down on the hard wooden floor.

When he looked up, he saw Gabrielle looking at him oddly with a confused expression on her face.

"Ah, 'Arry? What are you doing?" She asked him gently.

"Going to sleep?" He said hesitantly. "You can have the bed, I'm not going to make you sleep on the floor…."

Gabrielle shook her head. "No need for that, 'Arry, sleep with me on the bed, I will not make you sleep on the floor either," she said, patting the bed beside her.

He just blushed and stared at her slack-jawed.

She smiled warmly, and got off the bed to lean down and grab his hand and pull him over to the bed. "Relax, 'Arry, just sleeping. We are becoming friends first, _oui?_"

He nodded, his face still bright red, but let her push him down onto the bed and hand him the pillow.

She walked around to the other side, and lay down next to him. "It will be fine, I promise to behave. I don't bite… unless you would like me to," she said and looked over at him with a grin.

Harry finally laid back on his side of the small bed, trying to ignore the warm body next to him, the soft arm pressing against his side. For the longest time he lay there ramrod straight, but when he finally gathered up the courage to glance over at his companion, she'd already fallen asleep, a contented smile on her face which was turned toward him and almost pressing into his shoulder.

He listened to her soft breathing – and tried to tear his eyes away from the rise and fall of her chest – for several long minutes. He finally had to close his eyes and pretend it was Hermione next to him – as she'd done plenty of times the last few years as she studied late into the night sitting next to him on the couches of Gryffindor common room – and not another girl he barely knew, before he finally was able to relax enough to start drifting off to sleep.

* * *

_**Granger Residence**__** - June 15, 1996**_

Hermione Granger huffed out a frustrated breath and crumpled up the piece of parchment she'd begun to write on. She'd been trying for the last hour to write a letter to Harry that didn't sound demanding, worried or pushy. She'd written him a letter – sometimes just a short note and others several parchments-worth – every other day since she'd seen him at King's Cross Station walking glumly behind his whale of an Uncle. It had appeared to her that going home with Vernon, along with Sirius' recent death, had finally done something she'd thought impossible – crushed Harry's spirit.

After several weeks of writing to him, he still had not replied to her even with a simple "I'm alright, don't worry."

Now, she struggled to keep her letters from appearing as if she was angry at him – she was a bit chuffed at the lack of response, but given the circumstances she understood his reluctance – and to keep it from appearing that she wanted to push him to talk about Sirius if he wasn't ready.

A tear ran down her cheek and she swiped it away in annoyance. Seeing Harry once she'd been released from the hospital wing had solidified in her mind how she felt about him. She'd had a slight crush since Third Year – she'd first noticed it after their night alone together with the timeturner and their flight on Buckbeak – and it had grown, but she kept it hidden when Harry was crushing on Cho and later dated her.

She'd briefly considered her other friend, Ron, romantically but had felt that to be the _easy _choice – as much as a relationship filled with argument could be termed 'easy' – but not the _right_ choice. She and Ron were so different that she didn't think it could have ever worked between them. She rolled her eyes slightly as images of them arguing at their wedding flashed through her mind. That wasn't the sort of relationship she wanted.

With Harry, though, it was different. Seeing him wandering around Hogwarts, morose and mourning, pulled at her heart. But it was his eyes that had made her come to her full realization. One of Harry's greatest attributes, one of the things that made him _Harry_, were his eyes. His eyes displayed to her what he was truly feeling, no matter what front he put up or expression he wore. It was the reason she'd not been hurt by his angry tirades the previous year – she could see in his eyes his caring and affection for his friends and that his anger was simply frustration at how he was being treated by Dumbledore, Umbridge, and Snape.

They conveyed his true emotions and always had a warmth – a glow – in them, whether it was a hot snapping fire when he was angry, or a bright warm light when he smiled in true happiness. The second was something she'd been privileged to see the few times he'd displayed it: in Third Year as they waited in the forest and Harry told her about Sirius offering him a home, and saw it once more only directed at her when he realized that she believed him about the Triwizard Tournament when no one else would.

When she'd left the Hospital wing, she'd finally seen his eyes after the Ministry, and what she saw broke her heart into pieces. His eyes were flat – a sickly green that somewhat frightened her because it had looked the color of the Killing Curse that "Moody" had shown them in their Fourth Year – and completely emotionless. It was as if Bellatrix, in killing Sirius, had ripped out his very soul. That was when she'd realized how deeply she'd fallen for her best friend – she would do anything just to take away his pain, and get rid of those dead-looking eyes that had replaced _her_ Harry's eyes.

She blushed at that thought – her Harry – and shook her head, hardly daring to think that might be her future. She re-inked her quill to try writing again, and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment.

**Dear Harry, I hope you are doing alright at your uncle's house. If they aren't treating you well, let me know and I'll talk to Professor Lupin.**

**My summer has been terribly boring, as I'm sure you've gathered from what I've written in my other letters. I've nearly finished my Potions essay – I saved that one for last. **

**I do hope things are okay for you, I'll try to make sure you get out of there as soon as possible, your birthday at the latest.**

**Please write! **

**Love, Hermione**

Hermione tapped the end of the quill to her chin, rereading what she had written. She finally sighed and rolled up the parchment, placing it near the window. It would have to do. Now she just had to wait for the post owl to arrive, and then bribe it with a few extra Sickles and some owl treats to carry her message before returning to the Daily Prophet.

Hermione stood up and backed away from her desk, smiling when Crookshanks jumped from his perch on the desk and padded over to the cushion of the window sofa, curling up to soak in the morning sunlight streaming through. Her nose crinkled at the sight of nearly a dozen crumpled parchments on the floor – all failed letters – and she bent over, picking them up and dropping them into her dustbin.

She winced when a stab of pain went through her chest as she picked up the last parchment. While painful, she was glad her body had reminded her she had not yet taken her healing potion for the day.

After Dolohov's curse had hit her, she'd been taking two daily potions – one for the pain and one to promote healing. Madame Pomfrey had informed her that she would likely have a visible scar for the rest of her life, but had done the best she could to diminish its appearance. She'd also told her these twinges might occur from time to time – although with diminishing frequency – due to the damage done to her nerves where it had hit, and the difficulties potions had in repairing that type of delicate structure perfectly.

Hermione walked to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and pulled out two potions, one red and the other a neon green in colour. She forced them down, each having a rather unpleasant taste, and then rinsed her mouth out with mouthwash – something almost as common as toothbrushes in her house, given her parents' profession as dentists.

"Hermione, are you getting ready, love?" Her mother, Emma's voice called from outside her door. "We have to leave in a half-an-hour if we want to get to service on time."

Hermione's eyes shot to the clock, and gasped. It was much later than she'd thought – their Church's service was only an forty-five minutes away.

"I'm getting ready right now, mum!" She called through the door, and grabbed a skirt and top she'd laid out the night before and rushed into the bathroom.

She pulled off her nightgown, and paused, looking at the long mark that ran from near her collarbone at a diagonal down nearly to her bellybutton. While Dolohov's curse hadn't physically pierced her skin like a cutting curse or something similar would, it had wreaked havoc internally instead, causing a lot of damage to the blood vessels, tissue, and nerves directly beneath her skin.

As a result, she still had a sickly green-purple bruise, although it had lessened in the intensity of its color over the past several weeks, revealing a long discolored scar along the center of the bruising. If she hadn't silenced Dolohov, it would have done its rupturing damage on more important things, like her lungs and her heart.

It was the flame properties of the curse that had left the real mark. Injuries from such cursed flames were notoriously hard to heal, and she'd always have this thin strip of slightly-discolored burned skin running the entire length of the injury.

Hermione grimaced and pulled on her skirt and then her dark blue blouse, and made sure it completely covered the mark from sight.

After several minutes of trying to tame her bushy hair, she gave up, settling for pulling it back into a ponytail. She put on a gold necklace her grandmother had given her, pulled on a set of low heels, and hurried out the door of her room – telling Crookshanks to behave himself while they were at church – and moved down the hall to the stairwell.

Her father, Thomas, was already at the table and dressed for church. He was reading the newspaper and absently stabbing at a sliced-up sausage on his breakfast plate. Her mother carried two plates over to the table and set one down for Hermione and then seated herself in front of the other.

"Good morning, honey," Emma said when she caught sight of Hermione entering the room.

Her mother was wearing in a lavender coloured dress, her shoes off for her time in the kitchen. Hermione had inherited her bushy brown hair from her - although her mother kept hers cut to shoulder length to make it more manageable, while Hermione's ran halfway down her back. Her brown eyes, however, had come from her father, as her mother had sparkling light blue eyes.

"Good morning Mum, morning Daddy." Hermione said as she sat down and began to eat the sausage and eggs her mother had prepared.

Her father grunted a greeting from behind the paper, and Hermione smiled slightly in his direction. He was not an early-morning person, and didn't really get into the day until after ten in the morning.

The trio ate silently for several minutes before Hermione finally set down her fork and looked at her parents.

"Mum, Dad, I was wondering if, well you know we were planning the day trip into London on Friday, if maybe we could stop by Harry's house? He's not that far from where we were going to go shopping, only a fifteen minute drive and I–"

Emma smiled. "Okay, honey."

"R-really?" Hermione asked, surprised that her mother had agreed so quickly without even asking any questions.

Emma smirked and held out her hand to Thomas, who set down the paper and sighed. He pulled out his wallet and peeled out a twenty-pound note and put it in Emma's hand.

She grinned at Hermione. "Yes, really. Your father didn't think you'd ask to visit Harry, but I was sure you would."

Thomas gave Hermione a mock glare, but it was softened by his smile.

"How – what?" Hermione asked, nearly speechless.

Emma laughed. "I bet your father you'd want to see Harry this summer before his birthday, especially after you told us about his godfather. We'll pick him up Friday, perhaps after we've done some of the more boring shopping. If he wants maybe he can say the weekend in the guest bedroom."

Hermione beamed, and leapt out of her seat, throwing her arms around her mother's neck in a firm hug, and then her father's neck. "Thank you, Mum, Daddy. I've been getting really worried about Harry, and anyway I think he'd really appreciate someone visiting him and getting some time away from his aunt and uncle."

A slight frown creased Emma's features. "Why are you so worried, honey?"

Hermione sighed, sitting back down in her seat. "He hasn't written me at all, Mum."

Emma's frown deepened and she looked at her daughter in concern. "Still?"

Hermione nodded and looked down at her plate. "I think he's hurting even more than I originally thought he would be. He's with those awful relatives of his who won't even care what he went through, which is probably making it even harder for him. And… I realized that he might be blaming himself for what happened to _me_…."

Emma's eyes widened. "Why would he think that?" She asked.

She and her husband Thomas had been shocked and more than a little worried when Hermione came home with her injury, and told them everything that had happened. She'd been taming down events of the past three years – after her encounter with the basilisk – and they were surprised and scared for her safety when she finally told them the full story.

Thomas had immediately told her they were pulling her out of school, but was eventually calmed down by Emma, and after a much longer talk with their daughter, decided she'd be safest learning to defend herself at Hogwarts, with her friends. They'd reached the conclusion no parent ever wants to – their daughter, and her friends, could better defend her than they could against the threats that had crept into the world.

Hermione smiled wryly. "He's Harry, mum. Even though I chose to go with him and fight, he'll be blaming himself, and telling himself that he talked me into it and that I wouldn't have done it otherwise. It might not make sense to you or me, but that's how Harry is – he thinks everything is his fault."

Hermione picked up her empty plate and rinsed it in the sink.

"Well, we'll head over to Surrey on Friday then, maybe take him out to a museum and dinner in London." Emma said.

Hermione smiled, and Emma realized it had been a long time since she'd seen her daughter's face light up like that.

**A/N**_: Well, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for reading. Things will slowly begin to bring the three together, and thus far I forsee the next 5-10 chapters dealing with the summer and the first developments in their relationship before we get to Hogwarts._

_ Next chap, The Dursleys meet an unhappy Veela, Harry and Gabby learn more about one another as well as begin training, and Harry gets a surprise visit from an Order member._

_See you next week!_


	3. Chapter 3: Confrontation

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or related characters or concepts – that's JKR. Not making money off this story, simply writing for both my enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of my readers._**

_**A/N:**__ Hey there everyone, thanks for all the great reviews last chapter, glad most of you are liking the story thus far. This chap we see several confrontations (as the title implies), including the one I saw many were looking forward to between the Dursleys and Gabrielle. Anyway, enjoy, read and review!_

* * *

**Chapter 3****: Confrontation**

* * *

_**Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, June 16, 1996**_

Harry woke up with a groan, and reached up to rub at the bridge of his nose before he reached out blindly to grab his glasses. He slid them on and started to move, but froze when he saw the young woman in bed next to him.

Gabrielle was on her side, her head propped up on her hand, watching him intently with an amused smile. "_Bonjour_," she whispered, her blue eyes running over his face.

"Mornin'," he said. "You sleep alright?"

Gabrielle nodded, and shifted slightly, bringing her other arm forward to curl it up and rest her palm against his arm – the movement did rather interesting things to her chest, and she cheered smugly to herself when he blushed and tore his eyes away.

"What time is it?" Harry asked blearily.

"Just after seven," Gabrielle said, after a glance down at the slim, leather-banded watch he'd not noticed her wearing before.

His eyes widened and he sat up quickly. "Damn, I was supposed to be up half an hour ago, Uncle Vernon will be furious if he doesn't have his breakfast."

She moved her hand from his arm to his chest. "_Non_, let me worry about that. I am going to go downstairs, and deal with your relatives."

He looked over at her with concern, his mind racing to try to figure out just how his uncle would react to that. "I'll go down with you, in case he goes mad – "

She shook her head firmly. "It will be best if I go alone, 'Arry. 'aving you there will only make it worse if they are like you 'ave described them."

He hesitated, and it seemed to her he forced away a protest. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "_Oui,_ now why don't you take a shower and I will take mine later. It looks like you need it more than me," she said, her lips tugging upward in a smirk.

He followed her gaze…. Down, down his body to his boxers and his usual morning condition. He gulped at the wicked twinkle in her eye, and turned over to hide it from her view, quickly standing and moving toward the door. "Okay," he said quickly as he hurried out and toward the bathroom.

Harry closed the door to the bathroom, locking it behind him, and rested back against it with a low sigh, trying to get his heartbeat under control. He moved forward and turned on the shower as cool as he dared before stripping off his clothes and diving under the stream of water.

He shivered slightly as the cold water woke him up quite quickly, and dealt with his little problem almost as quickly. Harry grabbed a bottle of shampoo and poured some out onto his hand before lathering it in his now-wet hair, as he thought about the previous night.

His only lingering doubts toward Gabrielle had evaporated when he had woken up the most content in weeks he'd felt after sleeping. He wasn't sure if it was the Bond she'd told him about, or simply her presence, but he'd felt… safe… for lack of a better word, and hadn't had any more of his usual nightmares.

He felt a twinge of guilt at that – the only other times he'd woken up content and safe like that had been the few times he'd fallen asleep on the couch next to Hermione.

He wasn't certain of the totality of his feelings, but he'd finally realized just how much his best friend meant to him, the moment he saw her get hit by Dolohov's curse. She was, really, the most important thing in his life, especially now that he'd lost Sirius.

He had realized then that the old saying he'd heard was entirely true – you don't know what you've got until it's gone. Fortunately, in this case she hadn't truly been gone. That instant he'd thought she was dead had opened his eyes to see how much he cared for her. Thinking back, it should have been obvious earlier this last year at least, being willing to leave his date with his Cho just to meet up with Hermione who'd asked him to.

And now this guilt at feeling safe with Gabrielle… He shook his head, wondering if Hermione felt the same way – and if she did, just how she'd take hearing about this Bond.

"_Bugger_," Harry muttered, feeling like banging his head against the shower wall at the unexpected complications.

* * *

Gabrielle smoothed out the wrinkles her clothing had developed during her sleep, and then stood up, only then noticing a beautiful snowy-white owl resting on a perch in the corner of the room, staring at her with interest.

She noted the open window and realized the owl had come in sometime during the night. She walked slowly toward the creature, and quickly recognized the spark of intelligence in its eyes – obviously Harry's familiar.

"'Ello," she crooned softly, reaching out her fingers toward the white creature's face.

The owl stared at her fingers for a moment as they hovered near its face, and gave her a questioning look.

Gabrielle gasped as she felt a tingle along her Veela senses as the familiar connected with her – the avian part of her magic leapt out to mingle with the owl. "Do not worry, beautiful girl," she said softly to the owl. "Your master is my Mate. 'e is safe, and I am 'ere to help him."

The owl hooted once, and then bent her head forward to let Gabrielle's fingers run over the feathers of her forehead as she fluffed up her feathers contentedly.

The connection wasn't direct like Legilimency was, but she was able to understand the spirit of the message the owl was sending – a thankfulness that her master would not be alone, and a sadness at how she had been able to do little to help him herself.

"We will 'elp 'im together, little one." She said. "I must go down to speak with 'is relatives and put them in their place."

Hedwig seemed to nod, and pull back, looking rather pleased by her statement.

Gabrielle smiled and turned back toward the bedroom door – her expression instantly darkening as the sight of it reminded her of the Dursleys downstairs. She growled softly to herself and strode out into the hall, where she could hear the hushed voices from the kitchen downstairs

* * *

Vernon Dursley glared at the newspaper in front of him, listening to Petunia trying to coax Dudley into eating a light breakfast of yoghurt and cereal. The Boy hadn't been down yet to make their breakfasts so she seemed to be taking advantage of that to try once again to get their Dudders to eat more healthy.

Vernon looked down at his watch, his temper growing. '_Right, that's it, that little ungrateful freak is going to get it_,' he thought to himself as he tried to gather up the energy to push his considerable mass up from where he sat at the kitchen table.

As he started to brace his hands on the armrests to do just that, he heard footsteps on the stairs, and the creaking of the last two steps.

"It's about time, Freak," Vernon bellowed, turning his head slightly so his voice could travel more directly toward the living room where the Boy would have ended up having cleared the last of the steps.

"You should have been awake and making us breakfast half an hour ago! Don't think that just because you got your peg-legged eyeball freak to threaten us at that train station that I'm gonna be scared of them – I think you need to learn your place again, Boy. Too many years we've been lenient with you because of your freakishness – perhaps I'll remind you what my belt feels like toni–"

His purple-faced rant was cut off when the figure that appeared in the doorway was not that of the Boy, but rather a bare-footed, beautiful young woman. She was captivating, seemed to pull at him to draw him closer to her - to stare at her blond hair and her piercing blue eyes before drawing his gaze down to more shapely areas.

"D-Dudders, you didn't tell us you were having a girl over," Vernon said lamely, forcing himself to tear his eyes away to look at his son.

Dudley, unfortunately, not having had the opposing emotion of hatred running through his veins unlike his father during the rant, was struck full-force with lust, and staring hungrily at the girl – a long line of drool dripping down his chin and onto his shirt, while Petunia watched her husband and son with confusion.

When he got no answer from his son he turned back – it was so easy, he still felt the pull, and found himself slowly forgetting about Petunia, even as his wife walked across the room to stand next to him.

"Hello, I'm Petunia," she began, "It's so nice to meet one of Dudley's friends,'" she said almost nervously, and it was then that Vernon realized why.

The girl was facing them with a stony expression on her face, but those piercing eyes he'd seen, he quickly realized were filled with anger.

"I am not one of _Dudley's_ friends," she said, spitting out his son's name like it was dirty, and he noticed a distinct French accent.

Vernon looked at her with confusion then. "What? Then who are you and what are you doing in my house?"

* * *

Gabrielle looked at them, her expression reminding Vernon of a nature show he'd seen as a lioness stalked her prey.

"My name is Gabrielle, and I am staying with your nephew. The man I believe you called a '_Freak'_," she said, her voice hardening as his rant stayed fresh in her mind, seething at the things he'd been saying when he had thought she was her Mate.

"_WHAT_?" Vernon roared. "No bloody way! Get the hell out of my house!"

"I think you will find that I am not easily cowed by threats from pathetic men like yourself, _Dursley_." Gabrielle spat. "I will be staying here, with 'Arry, for as long as I please."

"Now listen here you little harlot," Vernon began, pushing himself up to a standing position as he tried to look imposing. "You'll not be staying in my house, let alone doing God-knows-what with Potter under my roof. I won't be bossed around by a Frog who thinks she can do what she likes. Get out before I make you get out!"

The girl moved almost too fast for him to see, and he felt a sudden pain in his chest as the heel of her palm slammed solidly into him, shoving him off-balance. He fell back painfully into his chair which, unfortunately for him, wobbled backward and spilled him out on the hard kitchen floor. He was left to stare wide-eyed, up at the girl, as he clutched at his back.

She stood back, her fists clenched at her sides. "I would like to see you make me leave. I am quite creative in my 'exes and curses."

She smiled to herself when all three of the Dursleys suddenly paled and looked frightened as they realized that not only was she with Harry, she was also a witch. '_They fear magic_,' she thought to herself. '_This will be fun._'

"No, 'exing would be too good for you," she said slowly, allowing images of Harry's door upstairs, the look of worry on his face before he let her leave to handle his relatives, the words of Vernon as he cursed at her Mate, all to come to the forefront of her mind at once. She let that begin feeding the anger already in her, slowly letting it lift the shield she kept over the darkest part of her Veela nature.

She watched Petunia shrink back into her chair while Vernon tried to scramble shakily backward along the floor, and Dudley gave a whimper and wet himself. They watched in terror as her fingers became longer and more pointed giving the appearance of the beginning of talon-like claws, her features of her face sharpening, becoming more harsh and beaklike as fire flickered in the palms of her hands.

She pulled back, letting the transformation hover there, just enough to keep the family frightened and silent. "Listen to me. You _will_ let me stay 'ere with 'Arry. You will not 'arrass 'im, you will not insult 'im, and you will _not_ use 'im as your 'ouseslave. You are lucky I am giving you this warning – 'ad things gone differently you would 'ave woken up to much worse last night," she said, raising her hands which flickered, wreathed in flame.

"Leave 'im alone, and I will not 'arm you. 'urt 'im in any way, and you will see me when I am truly angered – and I will act next time, not just threaten. We will let you go about your business, and we will go about ours."

She shook her head. "You are despicable to treat such a wonderful young man the way you 'ave." She turned her gaze to Petunia. "Is this the way your sister would 'ave treated Dudley, 'ad you and your 'usband been the ones to die? Think about that. You've 'armed your own nephew, someone of your own blood – 'ow can you live with yourself?"

She mentally smiled with satisfaction when she saw Petunia's face pale even further and look away, guilt on her features as she thought about what Gabrielle had said.

"Now, 'ave I been clear enough about 'ow things will be changing around 'ere?"

When all three of them quickly and silently nodded, terrified looks on their faces, she slowly pulled her Veela nature back in, changing back to the girl they had seen when she had entered and no longer the frightening image that would be haunting their dreams for nights to come.

"_Trés bien_." Gabrielle said. "'Arry and I will be making our own breakfast later, so feel free to make your own."

Petunia slowly, hesitantly got up, as if expecting the other woman to leap at her any moment and claw her throat out, and then she hurried over to the fridge to pull out some eggs and sausage to begin cooking for her husband and son. She was far too flustered to even remember she'd been close to coaxing her son into his diet, and made the breakfast quickly, her hands shaking the entire time even after the frightening young woman had left the room.

Vernon righted his chair and climbed slowly back into it, deathly silent. Petunia exchanged a silent, helpless glance with him several minutes later as she set their plates on the table, and he returned it with the same look in his own eyes.

* * *

When Harry stepped off the last stair, his hair still damp from his shower, it felt as if he had gone into the shower and then emerged in an alternate universe.

Rather than the tongue-lashing he expected from Vernon – who was sliding on his dress shoes and grabbing his briefcase – for sleeping in late and not making breakfast, all he got was a short glare.

"Boy- Potter," He corrected quickly. "Try to keep out of trouble," he said gruffly before turning to kiss Petunia goodbye and quickly leave the house.

Harry turned his wide eyes to where his aunt was sitting on the couch next to Dudley, and received a double shock when she began to discuss with his cousin what chores he would be doing today – Dudley _never_ did chores!

Dudley looked about to protest when she assigned him much of Harry's usual duties, but Harry saw his gaze flicker over to the kitchen doorway with a hint of fear, and then he quickly nodded in agreement.

"Good morning…. Harry," his aunt said softly, the almost civil tone jarring from what he was used to.

"Good morning Aunt Petunia," Harry said slowly.

"We didn't make you breakfast," her eyes flashing over to the kitchen like Dudley's, "your… your girlfriend said you two would make your own."

Harry nodded. "Thanks," he muttered softly, not bothering to correct her. He turned to stride quickly into the kitchen, away from the disturbing changes of the Dursleys and toward the girl who it seemed was responsible for them.

He pushed open the kitchen door, and was confronted with the smell of frying bacon. Gabrielle looked up from where she stood at the countertop. Her hair had been tucked back out of her face behind her ears, and she smiled warmly when she saw him.

"Hey," he said softly, letting the door swing shut behind him as he took in the scene before him. She had been cracking eggs and emptying their contents into a bowl next to the stove. On the stove, rashers of bacon were slowly sizzling on a skillet across from a frying pan that was browning some hashed potatoes.

"I was wondering when you were coming down," she said. "'ow would you like your eggs? I just made an omelet for myself, I thought you would like the same," she gestured toward where she had chopped up onions and bell peppers sitting in a bowl next to a plate with an already-cooked omelet filled with the same ingredients.

He hurried over next to her. "Let me help, you didn't have to make this all yourself," he said as she took the broken eggshells over to the rubbish bin.

She smiled warmly. "It is no trouble, 'Arry. I'm glad to do it for you, but feel free to 'elp," she said, leaning over to flip the browning potatoes to get an even crispness.

He grabbed the bowl she'd set aside, and poured out the eggs in the small skillet she'd already prepared with butter. "So… what did you do to the Dursleys? It was like walking down into a completely different world," he asked, eyeing her with interest.

She laughed softly. "I told you, I simply 'ad a talk with them. I explained that I would be staying 'ere, and they were to leave us alone and we would leave them alone in return."

Harry raised his eyebrows, looking incredulously at her. "That's it?" he asked doubtfully.

She nodded solemnly, but then he spotted a smile tugging at the corner of her lips before she chuckled at him. "You should 'ave seen your face," she said mirthfully. "The truth is I did say all of that to them, but I may 'ave… threatened to 'ex them and then frightened them with a little glimpse of a Veela becoming angry. I 'ave never seen someone's skin become that pale – and I think your cousin 'ad to change 'is trousers after I left."

Harry's eyes widened, remembering the Veela at the World Cup, and then he laughed as well. "No wonder they were so quiet when I came down – they're afraid of magic, but they know I can't use it here without being expelled." He chuckled again. "My Aunt even said good morning to me, and she and Dudley kept glancing at the kitchen like they were expecting an ax murderer to come charging at them if they said something wrong."

Gabrielle smiled for a moment at that, and then sighed. "Your uncle thought I was you when I came down. The things they call you… 'Arry," she said, reaching out to place a hand on his arm, "you know they are not true in any way? You are not a 'freak', you understand that right?"

"Yeah," he said quietly, not really convincing even himself with his answer.

She felt a surge of embarrassment and shame come over their bond, and his slight involuntary flinch when she said 'freak' told her that his relatives had been using the word for a long, long time. She fought to keep tears from coming to her eyes, realizing she had even more work set out for her than she'd even imagined last night after their talk, repairing the damage to his sense of self-worth and self-esteem that the Dursleys had done over his childhood with them.

She squeezed his arm, and then leaned in front of him to pour the filling in on top of the omelet before folding it in on itself moments later. "When I 'eard what they said I wanted to 'urt them very badly. No one deserves that treatment, 'Arry, especially not you." She shrugged. "So I threatened them with some 'exing, and then a bit of fire – I don't think they will be bothering you again this summer."

Harry smiled weakly as he accepted the plate she handed him with the freshly made omelet. "You're brilliant. Thank you," he said, and let her place a pile of bacon on his plate as well as a heaping of potatoes before she followed suit with her own plate and led him over to sit down at the table.

* * *

"Do your mum and your dad know you're here with me?" Harry asked her quietly as she searched her bag for her favorite hair brush. They were back in his room after their luxuriously long breakfast – one of the biggest breakfasts he'd had in years at Privet Drive. He was sitting on his bed, his Transfiguration text open on his lap but ignored in favor of watching her and asking the question that had been burning in his mind the whole morning.

Gabrielle looked up, surprised. "Oh, _oui_, I am 'ere with their blessing. _Maman_ is a bit more approving than _Papa_. But, that is because she is Veela as well, and knows the Bond. _Papa_… 'e just didn't want to let 'is 'Princess' go, and didn't understand why I 'ad to come here. 'e and _Maman_ only Bonded after they 'ad dated, and it is not like ours – _Maman_ told me they were twenty; and Fleur 'as not Bonded, so 'e 'ad no real experience with a Veela like me who Bonded so young."

"I'd have expected them to come, though," Harry said, thinking of the stereotypical 'meet the parents', "especially not knowing me…"

Gabrielle smiled. "Do not worry, they do wish to meet you, but this was my quest, to complete on my own. I am considered an adult, and they trust me to stay safe. They are also terribly busy, so they will not 'ave time to come over 'ere until late in the summer."

"What do they do?" He asked her, giving up on finishing his Transfiguration homework as he closed the book and brought his full attention to the younger girl.

Gabrielle's hand grasped her brush once she spotted it, and then she came over to sit next to Harry. "_Maman_ started off as a journalist, and 'as written many articles for newspapers in the Muggle and Magical worlds. She is now the chief editor for _Le Monde Magique_ – that is the main magical newspaper in France. She 'as also taken over editing for some magazines, but she's well respected for the newspaper, and for keeping the content very balanced and not biased."

Harry snorted. "We need someone like her over here – the Daily Prophet's a piece of garbage."

Gabrielle wrinkled her nose. "_Oui_, I know – over in France our family subscribes to it, and some others do, mainly to get a laugh at their constantly changing bias. One day they are showing you as a 'ero, and the next as a maniac." She muttered the last part darkly. "I must ask _Maman_ to make sure we get copies of 'er paper – not everyone 'ates you or treats you like that: only your paper, and some of the more… conservative Pureblood countries on the Continent that follow Britain's lead."

She shook her head. "Anyway, that is _Maman_. _Papa_ chose to be a…. I think you call them 'it Wizards? 'e became one of the best in our force, and one of the most respected commanders. Now 'e is the 'ead of the _MJM_ – that is like your DMLE."

"Wow, pretty high up," Harry said, a vague thought entering his head of what exactly his own parents might have been by now had they lived. "I'd like to meet them when they do get free time, they sound brilliant," he finally said.

Gabrielle beamed at him and brushed his cheek with a featherlight kiss. "I will tell them when I write to them. I know they will be 'appy to hear that," she said before pulling back, and bringing the hairbrush up to begin brushing her hair out until it fell neatly around her shoulders.

* * *

Harry watched her quietly, resting his chin on his knee, until she finally glanced up as she set down the brush, and flashed him a soft smile. "What are you thinking about?"

"You," he found himself blurting out, before snapping his mouth shut with a blush. "I mean, just… I'd always figured Veela could just, I dunno, turn on their powers and fix up their hair."

Gabrielle laughed. "That would be a wonderful gift, but we sadly do not 'ave that. We must work 'ard to keep our good looks. Although, if we use the Allure, it doesn't matter that much to the person under the influence what we look like. You may not know it, but there _are_ ugly Veela, those who don't take care of their appearance. While our heritage often gifts us with a nice appearance, it is up to us to maintain it like any other girl."

Harry smiled. "Makes sense, I guess. Speaking of Veela, though, I was thinking that… maybe we could start training, helping me figure out what this magic you were talking about is, and how to use it?"

Gabrielle's eyes lit up, and she tossed her hairbrush onto her bag, and moved so she was sitting fully on the bed. "I would like that. It… may take a while to get anywhere on the power, because first I must teach you to _see_ it."

Harry nodded – he was more than used to having to work hard to get to a goal, his _Patronus_ had been similar. "How do we start?"

"First, we must teach you to meditate. This is the most important part – you 'ave to learn to clear up your mind from all of the thoughts distracting you, so you can focus on simply the magic. This is used for many of the more difficult magics, like Occlumency, before you build your mental shield. Once we get you to that point, we work to get you to See our Bond and magic like I can."

Harry grimaced slightly at the mention of Occlumency, and then made a mental note to ask her if she knew how to do it – perhaps another thing she could teach him. "Okay."

She reached out, and grabbed his knees, pushing them down so he was sitting cross-legged like she was. "Alright, 'Arry. Back straight – we want you to meditate, so you can't slouch or you will be more likely to fall asleep than meditate."

Gabrielle smiled when he quickly adjusted his posture. She reached out slowly, and carefully removed his glasses from his face. "Good. Now, let your eyes fall mostly closed. Don't force them shut, just let your eyelids rest. Then just breathe slowly and naturally, and start focusing your attention only on that, trying to breathe through your nose, and just focus on that feeling."

He let his eyelids slide shut, and felt his breathing slow at her words, trying to keep his mind trained on the feeling of his breath entering and leaving his nostrils.

It seemed like his mind was going wild with thoughts suddenly, each thought trying to grab his attention and bring his consciousness down each pathway, each one clamoring more and more loudly for his attention.

He snapped his eyes open after several minutes of trying to focus on his breath. "It's not working, it's like my mind is even less clear," he said, feeling annoyed at himself."

Gabrielle nodded, and placed a hand on top of his own. "I know 'Arry, that is natural. Your mind isn't less clear, you're just starting out and as you are focusing, you are realizing just 'ow busy your mind already was. Just, do it again, and keep trying – the noise will disappear slowly."

Harry let his eyes close, and tried again. And again. And again. The whole thing was becoming frustrating, but he made sure to keep it from seeping into his voice – he wasn't frustrated with her, but rather himself. "I don't know, I guess I'm rubbish at this," he finally said after what had to be the twentieth attempt in three hours.

She looked at him with concern at the dejected sound in his voice. "_Non_," she said firmly, "'Arry, you are not the type of person to just give up. This is 'ard, and it's only natural that you are 'aving problems. I 'ave been watching you, and your magic as you tried, and I think the worst of it is because of this," she said gesturing at his forehead. "This curse scar 'as some 'armful effects on your mind, and that is causing your magic to flow oddly around it, and I think it is keeping your mind in conflict. It will be 'arder for you than most to meditate, but I know you can do it," she said, reaching up to brush her fingers along his forehead.

His eyes widened as the fingers caressed the scar, and he felt a wash of sudden peacefulness come over him that lasted only until her fingers moved on, and she started pulling her hand back.

She let out a startled squeak when his Seeker's reflexes let his hand dart out like lightning, and catch her wrist. He pulled her hand back up, and she didn't resist as he pressed her fingers to his scar, the look in his eyes intense.

"That… I don't know how, but when you're touching my scar, it's like most of what I've been having trouble with just disappears. I – I think your right, it's what is causing the problem," he said.

He slowly let go of her wrist, but she kept her hand where it was, chewing her lip in thought. "If it will 'elp," she said, moving around on the bed until she was almost behind him, letting her full palm rest comfortably on his forehead. "I am not sure either why it 'elps, but I think we can start out like this, and then work on doing it without once you get the idea."

Harry nodded, and let his eyelids shut again, and started focusing on his breathing. He let her soft voice guide him once more, and while he found his thoughts were still calling for his attention, there were much fewer, and much easier to ignore, without his scar throwing his mind into disarray.

He found himself following his thoughts once or twice, and forced himself back to his breathing, until finally, that's all there was – in, out, in, out. Just peace.

Harry blinked after what felt like a few minutes later, that same relaxed feeling from when he'd woken up with Gabrielle earlier that morning seeping through his body. He looked over and grinned at Gabrielle. "I think I got it," he said excitedly.

She shot him a wry smile, and pulled her hand back, massaging her arm as if it were sore. "_Oui_, I figured that out two hours ago," she said.

Harry looked at her with confusion before his watch caught his eye. "_One o'clock_?" He said incredulously. "But, it was – how could it have been two hours? It felt like just a minute or two."

Gabrielle nodded. "That is 'ow it often is. It gets a little better with more practice, but the first few times you will not 'ave any sense of time passing."

His eyes widened, realizing why she'd been rubbing her arm. "You kept your hand on my scar all that time?" He asked, looking at her with guilt and concern in his eyes.

Gabrielle shrugged nonchalantly. "I will only need to do this a few more times, it was nothing." She saw him about to protest, so she continued. "But, if you are feeling bad about my arm being sore, you could make it up to me by making us a late lunch," she said, grinning at him.

With a start Harry realized his own stomach was growling, and then he nodded, and grabbed her hand. "I'll head down and do that, and then I want to go on a run. Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You are very welcome, 'Arry. Maybe after your run we can do this again. And you can ease your guilt by making me dinner as well?" She said, a teasing grin on her face.

Harry laughed, and then nodded. "Sure," he said, getting up slowly from the bed. "I'll let you know when lunch is ready."

He paused a moment when he stood and felt the wands in his pocket, and then reached in to grab the unfamiliar one, and handed it to her. "Here, forgot to give this back to you this morning."

She smiled brightly, taking it as a symbol of his trust in her, and watched him fondly as he left the bedroom.

* * *

Harry closed the front door behind him as he stepped out into the warm heat of the day. While last night he might have felt worried about leaving Gabrielle on her own to fend for herself with the Dursleys, she'd shown she could more than take care of herself, leaving him feel free and at ease to go for his daily run. She'd originally wanted to come but finally agreed with him that it would be best if the Order didn't know about her presence.

Harry bent down, touching his toes several times, stretching his legs as he did so, and then jogged down the driveway, making his turn past where the Order member on watch usually concealed themselves, and started to pick up speed until he was running at the next driveway along his usual course.

He was slightly surprised when, several dozen yards later he heard the echoed sound of a second pair of footsteps running behind him evenly. He'd run the Order members ragged for the first week as they tried to keep up with him and follow him for all of his run – his favorite had been listening to that step-clunk noise of Mad-Eye trying to keep up with his wooden leg – but they'd quickly given up trying to follow once they realized he was staying within the neighborhood. So he was slightly taken aback that someone was running along with him and seemed to be actually able to keep up with him.

As the sound of the footsteps neared, coming almost abreast of him, he grinned slightly to himself and picked up speed into a full-on sprint, holding the pace for the next half mile as he heard his Order minder try to keep up, slowing slightly to his regular run for another half mile before sprinting again.

Finally he took pity on them after they'd kept the pace for slightly more than half his usual run, and slowed down to a walk as he approached the broken-down park that he used to always come and play with. The swings in the park still looked broken, but he knew that they'd been replaced just as he'd gotten back from Hogwarts, so it appeared Dudley and his gang had been on their usual property-destruction patrols.

"Surprised you managed to keep up," Harry said as he caught his breath, letting his runner's high wash over him as he grinned over at the patch of empty air that he could hear a similar heavy breathing coming from.

There was a moment's pause, and then an invisibility cloak swiftly slid off the tall, slender man who'd been following him. Remus was looking rather haggard – and had more grey in his hair than when Harry had last seen him – even though Harry knew it was just a day or two after the half-moon, it looked like he'd just undergone one of his transformations.

Despite the exhausted look in his eyes, he still managed a quirked grin at Harry through his rough beard. "One of the few benefits of being a werewolf. Heard how you were tiring everyone out when they tried to follow you," he said.

Harry smiled somewhat bitterly, his mind instantly jumping to what Remus might be here to talk him about. "So, come to tell me I can't run anymore or something? Just tell me what it is, Professor, I'm just too tired of Dumbledore's games – he's already taking my mail, not much more you guys can do."

Remus looked at Harry in confusion, and a bit of concern and hurt at his tone. "Your mail?"

Harry glanced over at him skeptically, and raised a hand to point at a speck high in the sky. "I hope it's Dumbledore. Otherwise it's someone else keeping it from me – Hedwig got attacked and managed to save half a letter I was sending yesterday," he said with a sigh and walked slowly over to a bench at the edge of the park.

Remus' gaze followed up to where Harry had pointed, and he squinted, his keen vision picking out a hawk soaring through the air. He frowned. "A Mail Interception Hawk?" He muttered.

Remus sad down on the bench next to Harry and shook his head. "I haven't heard anything about this from Dumbledore – I can't imagine why he'd be keeping your mail from you. I'll ask him when I head back to Headquarters, alright?"

Harry shrugged. "Go ahead, not like he'll change his mind." He ran a hand through his sweaty hair and glanced over to Remus with a little guilt in his eyes. "Sorry for snapping at you, but I'm just a little frustrated at things with him right now. I assume you're here on Order business, Professor?"

Remus shook his head. "Please, Remus or Moony – I haven't been your professor for two years now. And no, Harry - well, I'm sort of here on Order business. I _was_ taking my shift of watching you, but I was just going to stay back there while you went on your run." His expression became unreadable. "Who's the girl, Harry?"

Harry felt his heart leap up into his throat. "Huh? What are you talking about?" He asked as calmly as he could.

Remus scowled. "The Veela girl that's been all over you. I smelled her the minute you passed me on the driveway – the wolf in me is going crazy just sitting here next to you. Tell me who she is and what the hell she's doing with you."

Harry swallowed heavily, and then sighed. "Her name's Gabrielle Delacour…"

Remus' eyebrows tensed as he tried to remember where he'd heard the name. "The… the Beauxbatons champion from the World Cup?"

"That's her older sister, Fleur. Gabrielle's the one I saved from the lake in the Second Task. She's… helping me. Giving me someone to talk to. Bloody hell, she finally got the Dursleys to stop treating me like rubbish. Please don't make her leave," he said passionately.

"Harry," Remus began carefully, "she's… she's a very powerful Alpha creature, that's what's driving the wolf in me so wild. She's strong – she can easily be influencing you."

Harry shook his head. "She's not."

"Harry, she's a Veela. You might not realize it. Veela can be… dangerous," he began, wincing slightly when he heard his own choice of words.

Harry turned his gaze on him, his emerald green eyes looking as if they were aflame. "You're the last person I'd thought I would have heard garbage like that from, Prof- Remus." He quickly corrected himself. "Sure, Veela can be dangerous, but so can werewolves or giants. You don't see me running away from you or Hagrid, do you?"

Remus sighed, and rubbed his temples. "I know, I'm sorry, that was a very, very poor choice of words. I just… I don't want you hurt, don't want to risk that she might be using her Allure on you."

Harry looked away for a moment. "There must be some sort of spell you can use to test for that – do that if it'll make you feel better," he finally said softly, understanding in his voice. "But you won't find anything – she's not Alluring me, we're Bonded."

Remus' eyes widened, and he pulled out his wand to cast several obscure Revealing Charms, and found that to be exactly the case – not a hint of the Allure, and clear evidence of a Bond existing.

Harry shrugged. "She's helping me, teaching me things that I need to know with Voldemort out there after me. Things that the Headmaster should have been teaching me. I've already got more of a handle in one morning on what I should have learned for Occlumency than I had after an entire year of that greasy git Snape trying to teach it to me."

Remus' eyes flashed quickly over to Harry at that. "Harry… did you just say that Severus was teaching you Occlumency?" He asked slowly, wondering if he had somehow misheard.

He certainly hadn't known that. While he had no grudge against Snape like Sirius had, and even trusted him enough not to poison his Wolfsbane while he was at Hogwarts, why would Dumbledore trust Harry's mind to Snape? He'd seen clearly the hatred and contempt Snape held Harry in just from the year he'd been there, obviously due to his similarities to James. '_What had Dumbledore been thinking_?' He wondered to himself.

Harry snorted. "If you call that teaching. He'd just shout 'clear you mind', and then use Legilimency on me. At least now with Gabby I know what I'm supposed to be doing to _clear_ my mind…."

Remus' expression hardened, and he reached over to grab Harry's shoulder firmly. "Harry, look at me," he said roughly.

Harry looked up at him, startled, and Remus was struck once more at how similar to James he looked – an almost spitting image except for his eyes. This young man was all that he had left – James, Lily, and now Sirius were gone, Pettigrew was a traitor, the only thing left was Harry, and he was no longer surprised at the protective instincts that welled up within him at that thought. His inner wolf understood it even better than he did – Harry was his pack, and he would protect him at all costs.

"Harry, if that's what Severus was doing…" Remus shuddered. "Harry ,that's illegal mental assault – that would have destroyed any natural shields you had or were starting to build. He could be arrested for that, for using full active Legilimency on a minor without a license and legal permission, especially in such a destructive manner – that sort of thing is only for when you have full mental shields set up and you give permission to test them. No wonder you said you didn't learn anything from him – if anything he would have made your mind even more open."

Harry paled suddenly, and Remus saw his fists clench. "Voldemort. S-Sirius. Remus, that fake vision…. Snape opened up my mind and I went on that stupid trip to the Ministry after Voldemort tricked me…"

Remus swallowed heavily, and nodded. "Yeah. Now the question is if Dumbledore wanted him to weaken your mind to get a better idea of what Voldemort was doing, or if Severus was just doing it out of spite, or if he was doing the Dark Lord's bidding."

Harry looked guiltily over at Remus who was struggling with the mention of Sirius. "Sorry, I… I didn't think of how you'd feel if I mentioned him. I knew him for a few years, but he was one of your own best friends." Harry looked down, struggling against tears in his eyes – he'd been selfish these last weeks, not even thinking about how Sirius' death would hurt others.

Remus managed a small smile, and clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's okay, Harry. It hurts, and I know it hurts you too, but I don't think he'd want us wallowing in our grief feeling sorry for ourselves. We… we've still got one another, and I'd like our relationship to be closer."

Harry smiled slightly, and looked up at Remus with vulnerable eyes. "I'd like that too, Remus."

Remus sighed with relief, and then squeezed Harry's shoulder before letting it go. "I'll talk to Dumbledore about this, figure out what the hell he was thinking dragging Snape into this, and figure out if Snape's a traitor."

Remus rubbed his forehead. "I'll push to get you out of here as soon as possible, but I think you might still be in for a week or two. When you come to Headquarters I'll help you with your Occlumency if you'd like."

Harry looked at him with surprise. "You know Occlumency?"

Remus nodded. "Started learning it when I was about your age, actually. It helps, a lot, dealing with my transformations, especially when it gets close to the full moon."

Harry smiled lopsidedly. "I'll take all the help I can get."

Remus nodded, making a mental note to grab some books from his personal collection to give Harry in the next few days to give him a good start on Occlumency, if the Veela girl wasn't very experienced with it.

He finally sighed. "Do you trust the Vee- this girl, Gabrielle? You know what this Bond means, right?"

Harry nodded. "She explained it to me. I know that I can break it if I want to, and we've agreed to just start off slow and see what happens from there."

Remus nodded absently, the fact that she'd told him he could break the Bond was definitely a good sign, in his mind.

Harry continued. "Do I trust her? Yeah, I really do. At least as much as most of my friends. Maybe as much as you or Hermione," Harry said, and Remus noticed – with interest - a slight blush at that.

Harry shook his head. "Remus, she came last night, into my room, while I was sound asleep. She got past whatever guard you had out there-" He paused for a moment while Remus growled "_Mundungus" _under his breath, and realized he was glad he wasn't Fletcher for the foreseeable future given the look in Remus' eyes.

"Anyway, she could have slit my throat, or any number of things, then, or at any time later on in the night after we went to sleep afterward, but she woke me up while I was having a nightmare. She even gave me her wand. That's not even counting all the stuff she's done for me. I trust her, Remus."

"Okay, Harry," Remus finally said, a mischievous grin coming to his face. "I get it, you're crazy about the girl, and you trust her."

Harry's face flushed instantly, and he stared at Remus with his mouth hanging open. "I – Remus, it's not like that, we're just friends –"

Remus chuckled, and raised a hand. "It's okay, Harry, I was just teasing you. If you trust her, that's good enough for me. I won't tell the Order about it when I report in, but I suggest you keep her inside while she's here. You know Moody will spot her right away, right?"

Harry sighed. "I know. But at least I'll have had someone to talk to for that long."

Remus frowned, and looked down. "Moody's next shift is Friday night and Saturday – if you can get her out of there for then, and figure out how to sneak her back in after, I'll let you know his shift after that… I wish I could stay with you like that, but I… I have work to do," he said helplessly.

Harry smiled. "I know, it just gets so lonely. Don't even get the bloody Post anymore…"

"Even if I'm not around all the time, you know you can still talk to me, right Harry? Whenever I'm on duty here, I'll be all ears for you. I'm actually guarding on Tuesday, making up for a shift I'm going to miss for the full moon." Remus said.

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Remus. I'll take you up on that."

Remus glanced down at his watch and grimaced. "Hestia's shift starts in ten minutes. I'll be sure to let you know when I get on for Tuesday so we have more time…" Remus stood up from the bench. "What say you race this old werewolf back to the Dursleys? See if you can beat me, eh?"

Remus suddenly took off with a loping sprint, and Harry laughed, and then started running to try to catch up to him. "Oi, that's cheating!"

* * *

_**A/N**__: Well, hope you all liked that. The Dursleys got off a little easier than I'd planned, but they will be getting what's coming to them in full eventually – a woman scorned has nothing on an angry-protective Veela :)_

_I really like the Harry and Remus relationship in the books, and my only wish was that JKR had made it stronger, so I'll be working on that in this fic._

_Next chapter, Remus has a talk with Dumbledore, Harry has a few conversations and starts sorting out his feelings, Harry and Gabby work a bit more on his Power, and Hermione finally stops pulling her hair out with worry. :D_

_That and more next chap – thanks for all the reviews last time, hope I replied to at least most of them as well as I could. See you all next week!_


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